Apology Accepted
by LollerpopOfEvil
Summary: Altair/Malik fanfluff. *Yaoi warning* This is just a scenario on what happens when Altair gets Malik really mad for some reason and he feels bad. Guh, first fanfic so I don't know what the heck to put here.


**Be nice this is my first fan fic!**

**It is AltMal fanfluff! No like? No read!**

**Reviews are appreciated!**

**Thanks for the help, brilliantmemories!**

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Altair shut his eyes. He was laying in the Jerusalem bureau, the bright rugs and cushions not doing much to soften the ground below them. Altair had always found them misleadingly comfortable looking, but, in all truths, they may be some of the most uncomfortable things you lay down on.

In the background he heard the sound of a quill scratching against parchment, a surprisingly soothing sound. Every so often Altair heard Malik swear at something, or make a small complaint to himself. Another surprisingly soothing sound.

Altair rolled onto his side, trying to get more comfortable. He grunted in annoyance and rolled onto his other side. He tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable.

"What are you doing over there?!" He heard Malik call. The Rafiq had appeared in the door frame of the bureau and was looking at him with a disgusted look.

"Trying to get some rest, but these rugs feel like planks of wood," Altair grumbled.

Malik sighed. "Why don't you head back to Masyaf? You have killed your target. Or are you lingering here longer so you can try and take more limbs from me."

Altair glared up at the Rafiq. "I shall have you know that I am staying until tomorrow because I am feeling rather tired."

Malik shrugged. "Suit yourself. I honestly do not mind so long as you do not cause any trouble."

Altair gritted his teeth. Why did Malik anger him so easily? Altair rolled around on the rugs more, trying to get comfortable, but finally gave up. He forced himself onto his feet and began to walk through the doorway, following the sound of scratching parchment. He stood in front of Malik, ignoring the suspicious look he received from him. He glanced at the map he was working on, glanced at the inkwell next to it, and glanced at the map again. Carefully, he tipped the inkwell over, covering the entire page in sticky, black, liquid.

"Oops," Altair sarcastically murmured.

Words cannot describe the fury in Malik's eyes.

"What the _hell_ do you think you are doing!? I worked on that thing for _days_! You are not even _wanted_ here! _Why_ in the _hell_ did you think that would be alright!?"

Altair put on a mock apologetic face. "It was an accident I swear!"

Malik's entire body tensed. He grabbed the soggy, black piece of parchment and curled it up in his hand. He catapulted the stained page into Altair's face, and ran off into his room.

Altair stood there for a moment. He wiped off the black spot the parchment had made when it hit his face.

"…that did not feel as satisfying as I thought it would…," he mumbled to himself.

The assassin creaked open the door to Malik's room.

"Malik?" he gently called.

"Go away," was his only shaky response.

Malik was curled up on his bed, his knees against his chest. He was tightly gripping his side with his only arm.

Altair gently tip-toed to the side of the bed. He sat next to Malik and stared in front of him.

"Did you not hear me? I told you to leave."

"I will do no such thing," Altair snapped back.

Malik sat up and stared at the assassin with confusion in his eyes. Altair turned his head to look at his old friend. His cheeks were tear stained and his eyes were bloodshot.

_How did I hurt you that much? Is your work truly that important?_ Altair thought to himself. In his head what he did wasn't too bad.

Altair sighed and turned his whole body so it was facing the one armed assassin. His eyes, however, remained glued to the sheets.

"This is not exactly something I do on a regular basis…so, bear with me, will you?"

Malik seemed weary but slowly nodded his head.

Altair took in a deep breath. "I'm…," he began, "I'm sorry."

"…about what, exactly?" Malik responded.

"What do you mean 'about what'? Ruining your map!" Altair's voice was thick with disbelief as his eyes snapped to the Rafiq.

Malik let out a low, sad chuckle. "Altair, I do not care about that."

Altair raised an inquisitive eyebrow, urging Malik to continue. Malik's eyes wavered away.

"Well…I am fairly upset about that but…I feel that…after all this time I've known you…," Malik's voice trailed off. He let out a long, exasperated sigh. "It's nothing, forget I said anything."

Altair placed a hand on his old friend's shoulder. "Tell me, please," he murmured assoothingly as he could muster.

Malik shook his head and pushed Altair's hand away. "I just need some time alone that is all."

Altair sat there a little while, watching as Malik examined the floor. His cheeks had turned pink slightly. Tears that refused to fall rested at the corners of his eyes.

After a few moments of silence Altair slowly moved forward and wrapped his arms around Malik's waist. Altair pulled him close into a tight embrace.

Malik didn't move, but let his body go limp. Altair could tell that he was confused. Then, he felt Malik's arm wrap around his neck, and felt him gently nuzzle his neck.

They sat there for a long while. They didn't utter a word, barely moved an inch, and Altair could finally feel the tears fall from Malik's eyes, staining the white cloth on his shoulder a darker gray. Altair felt the Rafiq move backward, their faces just inches apart. Altair stared into Malik's watery brown eyes, and he could see them reflect his pain, gratitude, and even longing. He didn't even have to say the words Altair knew he wanted to say.

Altair leaned forward and pressed their lips together.


End file.
